Family Dynamics

A few entries back, Miz S left a comment about maybe providing some background to The Great Commotion in the way of family history.  I've know Miz S for quite a while, and these days she is facing some of the same problems I did when Dad became ill and Mom began acting all wackadoo!

I guess the question is this:  What might make a family member turn on his own parents and sibling for the purposes of self-enrichment?

A few days ago, I traveled up the road to Wal-Mart to buy a breadmaker (but that's another post).  During my journey, I tuned into NPR (the reception was in and out, causing me to become irritated, once again, at living so far outside of the Beltway) and listened to snippets of a story about how siblings could have completely different experiences growing up in the same family.  The reporter talked about things like divorce, favoritism/affinity and birth order.

The story was about family strains and Thanksgiving.

My own family is a classic example.

My parents had four children together, but only two of us survive.

First came Stevie, born in 1954.  During her pregnancy, my mother contracted toxoplasmosis.  Though she was asymptomatic, Stevie suffered brain damage as a result, causing him to be legally blind at birth and to suffer from hydrocephalus.  As an infant and toddler, Stevie had numerous surgeries to try to relieve the hydrocephalus by placing shunts in his brain to drain off fluid.  Even though blind, Stevie was highly intelligent, and my parents enrolled him in a series of special schools for the blind from a very young age.  As a young child, Stevie would spend weekdays at these boarding schools and come home on weekends.

At age 30, when Stevie was born, my dad was just four years into his career with the CIA, after serving in WWII and earning a masters degree afterward.  So, even while these were very lean years for them, my parents spared nothing in getting Stevie the best treatment and schooling possible.

Stevie would succumb to his brain injuries in 1965, at age 11.  (Nowadays, those shunts would be replaced as a matter of course.)  I still retain vivid memories of the last moments I saw my brother and the tremendous pain he suffered in his last hours.  I was a few months shy of 10 at the time.

I was born in 1955.  Just 18 months apart, Stevie and I were close as siblings, and his death created a profound sense of sadness and despair for my parents, and for me, too,  for many years afterward.

In 1957, my parents had another son, Eric, who was born with Down Syndrome.  At my father's insistence, Eric was institutionalized at birth, breaking my mother's heart.  When I was growing up, my parents mysteriously would disappear every so often, with a toy.  Eric died in 1967 from pneumonia.  I was not yet two when Eric was born.  I did not learn of his existence until sometime after he died.  I never saw him.

Just about six years later, in 1963, P. was born.  He was a healthy, adorable, baby son.  I can only imagine the relief my parents felt, after the health problems which afflicted Stevie and Eric.

P. was just 2.5 years old when Stevie died and has no memory of him at all.  P. grew up in a family with just two siblings--him . . . and a much-older sister.  By the  time P. could form memories, the trauma of those earlier years had subsided.

At the loss of their other two sons, and reeling from sadness and heartache, I think my parents, and especially, to a much greater degree, my mother, pinned their hopes and dreams on P.

He became the "golden" child, as the only surviving son.  Expectations were lowered and coddling and doting increased.

As a daughter, and a child born between two children with exceptional needs, I sort of got lost in all the upheavals.

This sense of the "value" of sons vs. daughters is a thing, I think, of my parents', and earlier, generations (here in the U.S., anyway).  Though my parents would never own to it, I'm sure, it is something that is immediately recognized by a child who experiences it.

I'm okay with it, though.  People are products of their environment.

In my father's family, he was provided with a college education, while his sister had to put herself through school, which caused some family disharmony.  So, there's that history.

And, Mom has always had a thing about male figures of authority.  Priests, doctors, whatever.  She trained as a nurse during a time when doctors--always male--were idolized, and nurses--always female--had to stand at attention whenever a doctor entered the area.

Don't get me started on the priests, for God's sake.  I can recall Mom falling all over herself whenever a priest happened to be at our house.  I guess I can be thankful that P. is not a priest, as well.  Or a doctor.

But, like I said, we are all of our own time.

Finally, while I do believe that most parents love their children equally, I also think that parents often feel more affinity toward some children than others.  It's really just a matter of similar personality and interests, I think.  And probably unavoidable.

In our family, my father and I shared similar interests and personalities, while P. and my mother were more alike--sociable, outgoing, fun-loving and charming.  Dad and I shared a sort of social phobia, being uncomfortable in new or strange social environments (not debilitating, but anxiety-producing); we were more pessimistic (I like to believe "realistic"); enjoyed similar interests, like history and current events and old movies; shared an interest in art/drawing/painting; our minds were detailed and organized in the same way; and, we resembled each other physically.

I don't mean to come across as some kind of cry-baby about all this stuff, but I DO think these kinds of factors--family dynamics, birth order, parent/child affinity, generational proclivities, etc.--can play into the question I posed at the beginning of this entry, especially when dementia enters the picture.

What do you think?

(As always, the history of The Great Commotion can be found in the category section of the side-bar, and I'm trying to answer any comments in the entry's comment box.) 

Comments

[Karenth49]

I detect no "crybaby" here at all. Rather, you have a clear, logical understanding of your family dynamics. I certainly agree that the circumstances you mention can and likely do play into the answer to your question - whether dementia is involved or not.

What IS dementia? When I read about it, I think we are ALL likely to experience some variation of it as we reach the last decade of life. In some cases it will become a permanent, debilitating and limiting life-factor. For others, I think it is transient, feather-light and fleeting. And yes, "the dementia," as Mary would call it, can undoubtedly be a cause of one's direct behavior toward others -- good OR bad behavior!

That said, some people just latch onto a grudge, or a fear, or mis-perception that grows like Topsy. It can be easier to go on in that way than to re-examine our feelings objectively and make an adjustment. Or to just take some fairly ordinary MEDS, dammit!

That's what ME thinks! Happy thanks-giving and turkey-eating. "Mine" are all upstairs now, and I am right behind them. 'Night!

[Karenth49]

11/25 post script to the day: There was FAR too much food, most of it excellent. But so MUCH that it didn't even all make it to the table. Tomorrow.

Two flat tires in 24 hours. Three cheers for 24 hour Wal-Mart with an auto svc. department guy hoping for something to do to alleviate boredom at 5:30pm on Thanksgiving.

A five year old who had to admit that he'd found the scissors at home, anxious to try them without the usual adult supervision. No paper handy, but the cool red shirt he was wearing had such interesting texture . . . the Thanksgiving of the Wardrobe Massacre. And I mean that in a good way.

[Pam Jones]

I detect absolutely no cry-baby attitude. And I agree completely with Karen when she says you present a "clear, logical Understanding" of your family dynamics. Cause and effect is of course a tricky thing: did your parents' loss of two boys affect the way they treated their one surviving son? Certainly. Did that "special" treatment turn him into a selfish thoughtless person? Maybe. Or maybe he was going to be that way no matter how many older siblings lived tragically short lives. To this armchair psychologist, you seem to have mentally worked through the possible causes of your fractured family without directing any of your anger at your parents. That's huge. And most important of all, you are treating your mother to the kind of loving end-of-life care all humans deserve and many do not get.

NOW, having worked so hard to unravel the threads of your family situation, don't forget to take care of yourself while also taking care of mom (not to mention LOL). You need Anne-breaks, Anne-treats, Anne-sleep, Anne-bitch-sessions (blogs are so good for that). Resentment toward P.? I wish I could say "get rid of it; it's toxic." It IS toxic, but in your position I would not easily give up the resentment. It would eat, eat eat its way through my being. I'm a firm believer in the notion that resentment -- even well-deserved -- is bad for us. But that's as far as I've evolved. So maybe you'll be more evolved than I and you'll be able to root out all that resentment so it doesn't eat through your stomach walls. Try.

[Karenth49]

Wondering what it says about me that I completely ignored the loss of two sons as a factor in sibling development. Pam also zeroed in on, 1. Special Treatment can lead to special development quirks, and 2. you really DID manage not to heap unreasonable blame on the 'rents! That is WAY cool.
Pam you have really hit on something for all of us: resentment as a bad drug, a poison. I will think more about that.

[The Complaint Department]

Pam and Karen--Thanks so much for your comments. Some readers, and others I've spoken to about The Great Commotion, have asked: "How could you and P. be from the same family?" When I considered the question, I came to believe that we weren't from the same family at all, given the difference in our ages and the experience of the two children, born with such needs, who later died. I was 18 or 19 when I left home, so from the time P. was 11 or 12, he was an only child, of sorts.

I think my parents' loss of two sons, and P.'s birth as a healthy child, certainly altered things. If my other brothers had survived, I think the outcome would have been much different, as my folks would have needed to focus on providing special schooling/medical treatment/support for Stevie and palliative support for Eric. There wouldn't have been time or resources for anything else.

My poor parents--I can't even imagine what it must have been like to endure the sadnesses they did. My mother still remembers those things, and speaks about them often. Not in any detail, of course, but she compares her own youth and the fact that, while desperately poor, her parents had four children who all survived into relatively old age. She says, repeatedly, "We didn't have any money, but my parents had four healthy children. We were rich."

In the end, my folks did the best they could, and who could blame them for pampering and protecting P., after all they had suffered. Because P. had no understanding about why he might have been treated so, given that he was not around for most of the time my brothers were living and didn't know how sad my parents were, especially after their deaths, I think he came to think of anything he received as "his due." (I'm only speculating, of course.) As you said, Pam, we'll never know if P. would have turned out the same way under alternative circumstances.

Mom's manner has not much changed since Alzheimer's has taken hold, but she is much LESS able to fend off the demands of P. for money, presents, clothes, whatever. She is a vulnerable adult, and, as such, should never have been taken to the bank and the trust attorney to sign documents she didn't understand. So says the law.

I have a lot of resentment and anger toward P., but it's more under control these days. The worst times were during the legal proceedings. I often had a lot of self-doubt: Was I doing the right thing? Would P. actually have stolen my mother's resources had be been given the chance? I felt he would have, but couldn't be certain, so I was pretty tortured.

I came to believe, over the last 18 months, though, that P. was, indeed, capable of any manner of cruelty. The fact that he has not visited Mom, answered/returned her phone calls, acknowledged her birthday, given her a gift, taken her out for lunch, celebrated holidays with her, etc., for all these months proves to me that I was on target. It's completely beyond me how a child could treat an elderly parent the way he has. He was given every comfort and opportunity--as was I--by my folks, and has repaid them in a terrible fashion.

Sounds like you had a "traditional" Thanksgiving, Karen. Lots of food, which will be around for days, ordeals with flat tires, and scissor art!

Pam, I hope your day was nice. Maybe you had company or visited elsewhere?

Tony and I had a marathon trip to Harrisburg, going and returning on the same day . . . with lots of leftovers to see us through 'til the spring!

[Miz S]

Wow. I can't believe that it took me a week or more to get over here and read this amazing post. You tell this story so well, Anne.

It's a story that has always fascinated me--you and your parents bound together with a shared history of grief. And P--growing up as the adored, healthy, golden boy.

That quote from your mother about the 4 healthy children? That's just heart-breaking.

Wish I could write a long, insightful comment like Pam and Karen do. But as usual, I'm rushing to get ready for work.

I'll talk to you later. xoxo